


Aziraphale discovers 21st century fashion

by SolemnVow



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-19 04:16:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19967902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SolemnVow/pseuds/SolemnVow
Summary: Aziraphale is very selective in what kinds of fashion he deems acceptable to wear. He has standards. Whether those standards are anywhere close to anyone else's standards, who can tell?





	Aziraphale discovers 21st century fashion

**Author's Note:**

> This came to me like a vision, I begged my art friend to draw it, I wrote this little ficlet for it, and now we have all been blessed.  
> The art comic can be found here: https://allthepandasintheworld.tumblr.com/post/186523047664/me-trying-to-organize-it-like-a-comic-yea-this
> 
> And yes, the article of clothing does exist on the internet! I googled it

“My dear, have a look, I’ve finally caught up with modern fashion trends!” His angel called out from the other room, his accompanying footsteps signalling his approach to where Crowley was currently lounging.

Crowley was excited, but understandably cautious. Aziraphale always meant well, but Crowley had suspected that it was the internal bastard within Aziraphale that caused misunderstandings with human customs and culture. Aziraphale liked things and coveted what he liked, but damn, the things he tended to like were an absolute assault on the senses.

So, yes. Crowley perked up with interest taken with a mountain of salt, to mix metaphors. Rightfully so, since, as soon as he laid eyes upon his angel, well...

He was struck with absolute horror. His form physically recoiled as a piece of his soul burned and died. There, fastened soundly around his angel's waist, was a _bum bag_ (or a fanny pack, belt bag, or belly bag, depending). 

And Aziraphale, dearest angel, stood proudly. Crowley let out a choked noise, his mind thoroughly unable to comprehend the sight. Sure, he wanted his angel to modernize, a bit, a _smidge,_ but not like this! And the damned thing was _TARTAN_ , of course! As if the thing needed more help insulting his angel's general appearance. Crowley could only handle so much! 

"What do you think, my dear?"

What did he think? _WHAT DID HE THINK?!_ God strike him down now, for that would be more merciful. How to express himself to his lovely angel without crushing his feelings? Sure, sure, the angel found an actual modern trend, but _at what cost?_ Eventually, Crowley found his voice, and with a hiss, he gave his opinion.

" **BURN IT.** " 

Really, the only sensible option.

Aziraphale, of course, allowed the veiled criticism slide off of him like, well, how water slides off of ducks with a dismissive click of his tongue.

"I shan't, thank you. I rather like it."

And thus, the Principality, Guardian of the Eastern Gate (formally), had spoken and his Word was Final. Crowley would just have to suffer in its’ presence.

And if, a few days later, a small demon in one of his favorite shapes could be found having a nice nap in said offensive fashion statement while his angel carried him around as he worked? Well, he was just fulfilling it's dark and devious purpose. Obviously.


End file.
